Ever since last week I've had troubled relationship with the toilet.
(warning, what follows may leave you too with a troubled toilet relationship. Read at your own risk!)
You see, last week's episode of This American Life opened with a story was about a couple who came home to their apartment in Portland one evening to discover a rat had climbed up through their plumbing and into their toilet. Not once, but TWICE!
Ever since, whenever I'm on the can, I can't stop imagining a rat finding its way into my toilet and taking liberties with the most vulnerable parts of my body.
I can recognize that my fear is not especially rational, but that doesn't lessen it. When you have offered your exposed bottom to a device which may or may not lead directly to rat world and you aren't even able keep your eyes on it, you are in a pretty vulnerable position.
I keep hoping that as time passes I will stop thinking about the possibility of a rat wreaking havoc on defenseless behind whenever I enter the bathroom and I'm sure that eventually I will, but if anything this week of thinking about it has intensified my apprehension.
How awful would it be if I developed an overwhelming phobia of toilets. I would have to go in the shower or in a bucket and then dump it in the toilet or something.
I don't think this is very likely to happen.
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